


Burden of Power

by GriffinGreen



Series: Worth Hollow [2]
Category: Changeling: The Lost
Genre: Grief, Victor Garza, Violence, death]
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-16 22:29:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16503959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GriffinGreen/pseuds/GriffinGreen
Summary: With enough planning in advance, changelings have the power to cheat death. That doesn't mean it's any easier for those left behind to pick up the pieces.





	Burden of Power

There are a lot of ways to gain the seasonal crown of a freehold. Having it pop onto your head in the middle of a battle is not one of the preferred ones.

Victor blinked again, irritated by the flickering lights just out of his range of vision. Swords and fire, floating in a circlet above his head. No one had told him that being Summer King included always wondering where that fucking glare was coming from. With a sigh, he tried to focus on the papers in front of him.

 _I’m looking on the bright side. I’m looking on the bright side._ That’s what he’d told Ichiro, unable to deal with his lover’s Dusk Court pessimism in the face of what, by all rights, was an unmitigated victory. And there was a bright side, even to paperwork. As Summer Queens go, Rivah had been famous for her strategy and organizational skills every bit as much as her battle prowess. _At least I was able to find what I was looking for easily_. Her files were designed to be accessible. That was one bit of stress taken off his shoulders.

It still didn’t change the fact that he was sitting at _her_ desk, occupying _her_ office, doing _her_ work. While she lay cold and bloody on the ground downstairs.

Rivah. The woman who’d given him a home. Who’d trusted a goofy meathead kid like him with responsibility. Who’d called him “son.”

Taking a deep breath, he found her name on the first sheet of paper, then scanned through the file until he found it again. He knew it’d be there; still, it was satisfying to check it off the list.

Another name; then another. Check mark after check mark. He tried not to think about the names. It was just office work, just a matching game. Didn’t matter what faces, what smiles and weaknesses and inside jokes were connected to each name. They were just words.

And after all – so far he’d checked off every name. So far, every person who’d died today had made the trip to the Underworld, had pacted with death to let them cheat it that one precious time. Rivah’s doing, that; she’d made a contact amongst the second-born and had organized regular trips. Rivah liked things to be orderly; unexpected deaths of freehold members was not orderly. So she made sure there was always a way to get them back.

So this wasn’t a list of the dead, not really. It was a – a shopping list. _I need to make a quick run to the Underworld and pick up one Rivah, one Darryl, one…_ A temporary inconvenience. Death where is thy dignity, where is thy sting, and all that nonsense, when all it meant was a few days without the person and then – a dangerous trip, sure, but a short trip to go get them? No big deal.

No reason, then, to think of the smell when Rivah’s guts had been torn out of her, the sound when she’d been ripped apart. No reason to see, over and over, what was left of her tossed aside like so much steaming, stinking meat. No reason to remember Darryl’s hand making one futile, abortive attempt to cover the wreckage of his throat before falling still beside him. No reason to picture all those cold, still figures behind the main building, none of whom looked as though they’d died peacefully or painlessly.

Dropping the papers, Victor covered his face with his hands.

He wasn’t new to losing people he cared about. In the gladiatorial arena, you understood – make friends, sure, because that’s how you survive, but keep them at arm’s length. So it won’t hurt as much when you see them die – and you will. He and Ichiro had taken a hell of a chance, letting themselves love each other. He knew, all too well, how to disconnect, how to see the crumpled remains of a friend as simply one more obstacle on the battlefield.

How to keep going.

But dammit, it wasn’t supposed to happen here.

He took one shaky breath, then another. Searching for that place, the one he thought he wouldn’t have to use again. The place that didn’t care, that could put caring aside for later. That thought in terms of tactics and advantages, not lives and blood. That’s what he needed. That’s what this freehold, relying on him for leadership, needed.

Picking up the papers again, he recognized the next name on the list. With a deep breath, he pretended he didn’t. It worked.

_Get Rivah back, and you can go back to being an irresponsible asshole who starts fights in bars. Get Rivah back, and all you have to worry about is doing the dishes when it’s your turn. Get Rivah back, and all you have to do is follow her orders and trust that she knows best. Get Rivah back. Get Rivah back._

But until then, there was work to be done. 

He placed another check mark, then moved on to the next name.


End file.
